Chapter 12 #2
“Gotta live your life, Maxy boy,” I reply coolly. Alexa wraps her arms around me from behind as if on cue and leans into my back—like Max here, she’s staking her claim.
“Why don’t we head inside?” Max suggests, still keeping his watchful gaze on me as he guides Ronnie towards the entrance of the bar.
We follow suit and enter, the tension between us still palpable.
Inside, the heavy scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap perfume fills the air.
Max wraps his arm around Ronnie’s shoulder.
My eyes follow each sway of her hips as Max leads her to the booth in the far corner.
He stops at a black booth, a bucket of Bud Lights on ice placed in the middle of the table.
Alexa snorts in disgust as we take a seat at the opposite end of the booth, giving us a clear view of the bustling room.
I lean back against the soft leather booth, casually draping an arm around Blondie’s shoulders while keeping my eyes locked on their huddled conversation. I wonder what he’s saying?
Alexa doesn’t miss my intense focus on her. I swear this woman seriously has a sixth sense or some shit. Or maybe I’m that painfully obvious. “Seriously, Iz? Can you try to hide it a little?” she snaps as she slips onto my lap..
“Be careful, love,” I retort with a smirk, loosely wrapping my free hand around her neck. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” A glare is her only response to me before she turns her attention to Ronnie. Bryce Savage’s song “Curiosity” plays from the speakers above.
“Come on, Ronnie, let’s dance! I love this song,” Alexa exclaims as she reaches for her best friend's hand. “And I could use a drink that’s stronger than a beer,” she adds with a grimace.
“Fine,” Ronnie replies. Alexa rises from my lap, fixing her pink dress when she stands.
Hand in hand, both girls slide out of the booth.
I roll the tension from my neck as I watch them head towards the small dance floor.
Before shifting my attention over to the bucket of beers sitting on our table, trying to distract myself by keeping my eyes busy.
Reaching over, I grab a Bud Light bottle, screw the top off, and take a sip.
Fuck this is nasty. I’m not a beer kind of guy.
I just need something to take the edge off.
Trying to calm the thirst, but it’s no use; my gaze keeps wandering.
Her black hair is straight today and parted down the middle, the bottom red streaks falling past her breasts.
Her blue jeans cling to her curves while strategically placed rips show off bits of her golden skin.
Her black shirt leaves little to the imagination, making my mouth water as I imagine kissing and teasing her bare breasts.
My cock thickens, and I know I should focus on something else before Max notices that I’m hard.
I lean back, stretching my legs out as I watch the two of them stop at the bar.
Ronnie leans against the counter, her plump ass on full display, and I can’t help but drink in the sight.
How perfect her body is, how much I desire to bury my tongue in her wet pussy.
How desperately needy and hungry I am for someone I can’t have.
My jaw muscles go taut as her ass moves from side to side, dancing to the rhythm of the music.
I open and close my hands, keeping them busy and away from my aching dick.
Max must have noticed my reaction, too, because his glare melts into the side of my face, but I don’t care.
He doesn’t matter to me. Shamelessly, I continue to look at them as they get their drinks, stopping to dance.
Their hips sway to the music, and Ronnie’s left arm goes above her head, her head moving from side to side.
Blondie does the same, and they vibe while I watch.
The women continue to dance while Max tries to make small talk, but my mind is elsewhere, lost in her.
Then he drops a bombshell that snaps me out of my trance. “I’m proposing to her.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I freeze mid-reach for a beer bottle, clenching my fist instead.
His words don't take me by surprise. My dad already filled me in about him asking for her hand in marriage. He has another thing coming if he thinks he will. Like hell he is. He’s not marrying her. No way.
“What?” I ask feigning that I didn’t hear him.
“I’m proposing to Vero,” Max repeats, smugness evident in his expression as he pulls out a small velvet box from his pocket. “Well, technically, I already did. I just haven’t given her the ring yet.”
A cold numbness spreads, hearing him talk about his engagement, like he’s planning on making me one of the groomsmen.
My heart aches at the thought of our last names not being the same.
Veronica was always destined to be a Vargas.
I mean, she technically is, thanks to my father, but fuck. I never saw her as a fucking Donavan.
“You asked her?” I ask, pretending I wasn’t aware of anything. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t say no,” Max shrugs, avoiding my gaze.
“But she didn’t exactly say yes either.” He opens the velvet box to reveal a beautiful silver band adorned with a sparkling blue diamond.
It is exactly like her. Beautiful and unattainable.
I force myself to play the role she has forced me to take on—that of a brother.
“Congratulations,” I manage to choke out, because what else am I supposed to say?
You can’t marry her because she’s mine, and I’ll kill you before you take her away from me.
So, I pretend.
“Thank you. I’ve talked to everyone except you, but I figured you should know,” Max says with a triumphant smirk before pocketing the ring again, a glimmer of possessive satisfaction dancing in his eyes.
I turn away, unable to look at him. She has made her choice, and it isn’t me.
So, I pretend, for her sake and mine. And it kills me inside.
Max gives a signal to the bottle girl and then turns to me.
“We should get another round,” he suggests.
I chug the rest of my beer, trying to numb the fire that’s burning inside me.
“Sure,” I reply half-heartedly, unable to take my eyes off Ronnie as she moves gracefully under the colorful lights, her skin glistening from the thin coat of sweat that now layers her skin.
I ache to lick it… to use my tongue and taste the saltiness of her skin.
To feel the heat radiating off her as she sways to the music, completely oblivious to my turmoil.
When the song finishes, they head back towards us, Alexa taking another sip of her go-to drink, a thin mint martini, while Ronnie sips on her usual Jack and Coke.
They slide back into the booth, a blithe laugh escaping Ronnie’s painted lips as she recounts a joke to Alexa.
The sight brings joy to my heart, it’s been awhile that I’ve seen them truly enjoying each other’s company without any underlying resentment.
Max is quick to pull Ronnie to his side, shooting me a smirk that makes me want to punch him in the face.
I keep my feelings in check because if not, I’m afraid I’ll kill him.
“Another drink, ladies?” Max asks, motioning to the waitress to come to our table. Ronnie playfully rolls her eyes at him, before her attention shifts to me. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Alexa wraps her arms around my neck.
“I can’t wait to fuck you tonight,” she purrs against my ear, but fucking is the last thing I want to do. At least not with her. I shrug her arms off my neck.
“Not in the mood,” I say, trying to mask my irritation, faking a smile, and asking, “Do you want another martini?”
“Yes, please,” Alexa grits out as her arms fall to her side.
She flops onto the space next to me, letting out a giggle, her cheeks flushed from the dance and alcohol.
I roll my neck, annoyed with her, with him, and, fuck, even with Ronnie.
Alexa leans into me slightly, but my attention is elsewhere.
Anger flashes across her face when she notices my eyes on Ronnie, who is cooling herself with a cocktail napkin, her eyes closed as if she is imagining herself somewhere else.
I don’t care at this point, not when I'm so close to losing everything I ever wanted. I drink her in, watching as she pats the napkin on her neck down her sternum. I swallow hard. My blood is rushing to places it shouldn’t.
Alexa runs her hand down my thigh, only to be stopped by my grip.
Alexa’s eyes narrow dangerously as she pulls her hand from my thigh.
Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t care, not right now.
Max talks with the waitress, his annoying smirk still plastered on his face as he orders another round of drinks.
My girl stays silent, her fingers playing absently with the delicate chain around her neck, her brow furrowed as if she were lost in thought.
I take a deep breath, trying to distract myself from the sight of her and the desire that keeps gnawing at me.
The music starts to change to something slower, more sensual than the thumping bass from before.
“Are you getting that martini?” Alexa asks, whispering into my ear.
“He just ordered it,” I mutter, tearing my gaze from Ronnie to give Alexa a half-hearted smile. Alexa takes a swig of my beer and, once again, her hand lands on my thigh. Slowly, her fingers begin to climb and land on my cock. “I need to feel you,” she says.
I stop her hand abruptly. “No.”
Her blue eyes widen, anger flashing through them. “What’s crawled up your ass?” she hisses, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. My ears begin to ring. “Calm down, Lex,” I say through gritted teeth, trying not to make a scene.
She jolts up, slamming her hands on the table. “Fuck you, Iz. Max, take me home,” she says, surprising us all. Max gives her a puzzled look, then to Ronnie. To which she smiles, giving him the okay.
“Hope you have a great night, Isaac,” Alexa seethes before shimmying out of the booth and storming into the crowd.
I don’t bother to follow. Instead, I sit back and finish off my beer.
Max stands up and turns to Ronnie. “I guess I’ll see you back at the house?
” he asks, his earlier smugness now gone as he lovingly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and kisses her.
It’s not just a brief peck on the lips but a deep kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth.
Ronnie pulls away from the kiss, her cheeks flushed as she clears her throat with a smile.
Max looks at me with a warning glance and nods his head slightly.
“Make sure she gets home safely,” he says.
I smirk. “Always.”
In silence, we watch him disappear into the crowd.
I take this opportunity to close the distance between us.
My girl wastes no time, as she leans in.
“Wanna ditch this place and smoke a joint?” Ronnie says, taking me by surprise.
My girl wants to be alone with me. I don’t argue, not with this.
Not when I want nothing more than to spend time with her, smoking a joint while we talk about life.
“I’m okay with that.”
Veronica nods her head as I place the drink on the table.
“Max paid, so we can just go,” she says.
I nod and follow her lead. We walk outside, and I slip into my all-black Camaro and watch as she talks to Max on the phone.
Reassuring him that she won’t be long before opening the passenger door and sliding in with a grace that makes my breath hitch in my throat.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“No, I was just filling him in on the plans.” She shrugs. “ I have no more pot and you… umm, have pot,” she sighs as she leans her head into the leather seat. “He doesn’t like you,” she adds, smacking her phone against her hand. “And you don’t make it any easier.”
And he shouldn’t; if she allowed me to, I would take her from him in a heartbeat. “I don’t care if he likes me,” I say, giving her a devilish smirk.
She smacks my shoulder. “Seriously, Iz, you can try to be nice. I hate having to constantly defend your actions to Max.”
I roll my eyes and shrug. “Then don’t. I can smoke you out, but you have to do something for me.” She looks at me with a raised eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What exactly would I be doing?”
I place my hand on the gear shift and meet her gaze.
“Just talk to me… about anything, really.” I don’t know why I said it, but it’s the truth.
“An hour of your time, just us.” She studies me for a moment before she shrugs casually, slipping off her heels and pulling her feet up onto the seat beneath her, curling up like some exotic cat.
“Alright,” she says, a hint of amusement in her warm gray eyes. “But we can only smoke and do that. I have work in the morning and have to get Nixie to school.”
“In that case,” I say, starting the engine and pulling out onto the street. “Let’s get going.”